


Eclipse

by Csribbles



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Apocalypse, Bunker fic because we need more of those, Canon-Typical Violence, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, End of the World, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Issues, Gen, Illnesses, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Nuclear Warfare, Nuclear Winter, Platonic Relationships, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-05-27 05:17:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Csribbles/pseuds/Csribbles
Summary: Rook had tried to take down a cult.And now all his friends were dead.Everyone and everything he loved… Wiped out by nuclear bombs. He’d only heard a few mentions of war starting on the radios while driving on the roads of Hope County, but he didn’t think… He didn’t believe that it would be like this. That it would end like this.And now he was stuck in a bunker alone with Joseph Seed til the end of time, handcuffs digging into his skin painfully, the floor hard and cold beneath him.† † †[Can be read as very heavy platonic for the most part]





	1. End of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hope you all enjoy this, it's my first far cry fic, so i hope it's received well, i promise i haven't abandoned my other fics entirely, i'll return to them eventually. Almost all of them have at least half a chapter written, so be patient with me.
> 
> So, this being the first chapter, it's most likely going to be a little longer than the rest of the chapters, as i often like having the first chapters a little bit longer. But i will try to keep the chapters around 3k, this one being 4k, and well. Here we go, i suppose. I welcome you all to my mind, and i hope you enjoy the ride.

† † †

Rook didn't know how long had passed, and it was driving him insane. There were no clocks, there was no light from outside. Nothing that would tell him anything about the passage of time. The only thing in the room was an old calendar from a few years back on the wall, seemingly a bikini calendar, a different half naked girl for each month, which Rook assumed Joseph had found in one of Dutch’s drawers, but for obvious reasons, that didn't help much. Joseph occasionally scribbled something into it, but it was too small and too far away for Rook to see. It wasn’t in daily order, it wasn’t even always on the same months, not consistent in any way whatsoever. The dates and writings probably had some kind of biblical meanings, considering who was writing it. 

 

Occasionally, Rook wondered if the man even slept, as he rarely saw him come lay in the bed that Rook was cuffed to, but he had just assumed that the man was most likely sleeping elsewhere, or just by some coincidence came to sleep while Rook himself was asleep. But, that didn’t seem too likely, so it probably wasn’t the right option. The only time he actually saw Joseph was when the man came in every now and then, doing God knows what, occasionally and wordlessly offering water to Rook, once going as far as forcing him to drink it. He did offer him some dried meat at one point, but Rook hadn’t accepted it, making himself ignore the aching pain in his stomach. Joseph had seemed upset, leaving the food in front of him, on the floor. When Rook didn’t eat it, he eventually had to take it away and eat it himself, making it a point to sit in front of Rook, making direct eye contact as he did so. Even with that, he clearly did want Rook to stay alive, but why? Because he’d get lonely without company? Because at some point he’d want to make him listen to his ridiculous religious bullshit? Was there another reason? He could have picked any of Rook’s friends, nearby peggies, he could have even picked Dutch. But instead, he picked Rook and only Rook. He didn't know why, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know why. 

 

Rook groaned, tugging weakly at the handcuffs. He’d given up actually trying to escape them, he didn't know how long ago. But at this point, did any of that even matter? Even if he did get out of the cuffs, what would he do? He couldn't run, there was nothing outside. He couldn't kill Joseph, he knew he wouldn't be able to overpower him in the state he currently was in. He felt… weak. Flinching at the thought, he shut his eyes as memories of his time with Jacob started flooding back into his mind. Oh how he wished he could go back in time before any of this even happened and just not put the cuffs on Joseph. Hell, he’d rather have joined the cult if that meant he wouldn't have ended up here.

 

God. How bad must things be if he was thinking like that?

 

… Pretty bad.

 

He sighed, his knees aching from sitting in the same position for what felt like hours now. He didn’t have many options in how he wanted to lay or sit on the cold floor while in handcuffs, and since moving hurt his wrists, he tried not to change position too often. Groaning, he leaned against his elbow and let his legs straighten out as he laid down onto his stomach, his cheek leaning against his bicep, eyes barely staying open at this point. He didn’t know when he slept last. When he ate last. When he drank last. 

 

His eyes slipped shut.

 

 

Hours passed, or perhaps only minutes, when Rook woke, finding himself off of the floor and on something a lot softer and more comfortable. He blinked in confusion, trying to get the grogginess out of his system so he could figure out his surroundings. He sat up, too confused to realize that he wasn’t handcuffed anymore. He looked down to see that yes, he was off the floor, and instead, found himself in the exact same bed that he had been handcuffed to by the Father. His eyes moved to look at his wrists, finally registering that he was free, but the marks from the cuffs were still there and he felt sore all over. He felt dull as he laid back down, knowing that even though he was free, he didn’t have anywhere to go. Trying to ignore his thoughts and just bask in the feeling of something that wasn’t a hard cold floor underneath him, he pulled the blanket over himself. He groaned, eyes closing as he tried to sleep, but it wasn’t working. He didn’t feel tired, he just felt empty, and he knew that, but he hoped he could fill the void by being unconscious as much as possible. But apparently that wasn’t happening, because every time he inhaled, he could smell the Father, and oh did he know his smell by now. With how every time the two had met, Joseph never seemed to have any concept of personal space, getting right up in his face every single time, to the point where he had the smell of the other man imprinted into his mind. He pressed his face into the pillow, hands tightening in the blanket.

 

“My child, you’ve awoken. I have waited for you.” Rook flinched, quickly letting go of the blanket, his eyes snapping open and gaze quickly darting to the source of the voice, meeting the Fathers soft gaze. Where’d he come from? Was he there the whole time? Still kind of out of it, Rook propped himself up on his elbow, he assumed(and hoped) that the man hadn’t been in the room the whole time, since he hadn’t said anything when Rook sat up earlier, nor did Rook see him in the room. But still, he had not noticed Joseph come into the room at any point. He swallowed, eyes flickering from Joseph to the wall, realizing he had stared at the man for way longer than he should have. The other hummed, sitting down on the seat next to the bed. “I understand you do not possess the want to speak with me, but I simply ask of you to listen.” Joseph’s voice was smooth, like music for Rook’s ears. It was the first thing he’d heard in ages that wasn’t his own breathing. He gave a small nod. At least Joseph had calmed down since entering the bunker. “I am glad.” Joseph scooted closer to the bed, forcing Rook’s eyes back to him as he was the only thing in the Deputy’s field of vision now. Rook clenched his jaw, eyes moving slowly to meet the older man’s own. “The veteran had collected plenty of supplies into this safeplace, but sadly, I don’t think it is going to last for the both of us for seven years or longer. I am asking this of you, would you be willing to keep guard while I go seek supplies for us?”

 

“Seven years?” Rook looked away again, trying to let that one sink in. He was going to be stuck here for seven years with Joseph Seed. The man whose siblings he had killed one by one. Seven years was a long time to spend with someone, especially if that someone was supposed to be your mortal enemy. He heard Joseph say something, but he didn’t know what it was, it was so far away from him right now. Seven years. He swallowed harshly, feeling Joseph’s fingers caress the side of his face in an attempt to get his attention. Rook flinched away from the touch, finally returning to the real world. He chewed his cheek anxiously. He had to get away from here. He couldn’t possibly spend seven years with Joseph Seed, that wasn’t happening. He cleared his throat. “I think it would be better if I were the one to go outside.” He slowly raised himself into a sitting position, avoiding the other man's gaze. Joseph was too good at guessing what people were thinking just by looking at them, and Rook wasn’t too fond of the idea. He thought about his friends, wondering if any of them were still alive, possibly survived the crash and made their way somewhere safe. “I know my way to the bunker in Whitetail Mountains- the Wolf’s Den. I know the people there and I’m sure I could convince them to give me supplies and–”

 

“No, my child.” Joseph placed a hand onto Rook’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he shook his head softly. Rook’s eyes flickered between the hand and Josephs face, uncertain what to do or to say. He had to get outside, he had to see it all for himself. He had to find his friends, but most of all, he had to get away from Joseph. He finally stopped fidgeting and stared the man right in the face, glad his eyes were closed. Even though Joseph looked a lot different with his glasses, the lack of them didn’t take anything away from how intimidating he could be. At least with his eyes closed he wasn’t staring into Rook’s soul.

 

“...What?” The deputy finally sputtered, frowning at the other. “It’s much better my way, I–” Joseph simply cut him off, fingers squeezing his shoulder as he opened his eyes once more. Rook swallowed, the intensity of the Fathers gaze was too much for him, but for some reason, he couldn't find it in himself to look away.

 

“I will not allow you to leave this bunker. There is only one gasmask, and I do not quite trust you enough yet to let you take it with you. I also need you to get more energy before you can leave here, you’re starved, possibly sick. I do not want to risk you dying just because you think it's more convenient to do things your way.” Joseph was looking at him with a strange look, but that quickly turned into a soft smile as he placed his other hand on the side of Rook’s face, his thumb softly stroking the Deputy’s cheek, spreading a pleasant, but unwanted, warmth through the younger man. “I will never allow you to get hurt under my care. After all, I am your Father and you are my child.” 

 

Rook couldn’t find it in him to argue with the man at this point. He was exhausted, he was hungry, he just couldn't do it. He knew it would lead to nothing. So let him have his way. And if he never returned, it would just mean more food for Rook. More peace of mind for Rook. No more being handcuffed to a bed for Rook. He hesitantly nodded. “Fine.” Joseph seemed very pleased with this, the hand on his shoulder finding his face as well. Rook fidgeted uncomfortably in the man's hold, his fingers finding his wrist, one of them pressing against the beaded snare that was wrapped around the Father’s hand and wrist. Josephs smile faltered slightly, but quickly it came back and he leaned away from Rook, letting his hands fall down as he got up from the chair. He motioned to the direction of the doorway, his gaze not leaving Rook’s. “I have prepared a small portion of food for you.” Rook nodded, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ to the man. He didn’t really know what else to say. He looked down at his lap, rubbing his hands slowly together, unsure where he should put his hands, when suddenly a small notebook made it into his hands, Joseph sliding it into them with a small smile. He blinked up at the older man, before looking back down, at the book.

 

He watched as Joseph stepped away from him without saying anything about the book and started gathering supplies, pulling on some jacket from Dutch’s closet and a pair of gloves as he hummed a familiar tune. He looked ridiculous, with his hair up in that tight bun and with the tight jeans hugging his legs just right, he looked like the most basic hipster Rook had ever seen. He chuckled to himself, exhausted to the point of finding anything amusing, placing the small notebook down on the bed next to him. When he looked again, Joseph was grabbing the gas mask, and Rook frowned in confusion. Was this the reason he was uncuffed? Because Joseph was leaving, and he didn’t want to risk the chance that he might not come back. Rook hoped that wasn’t the case. “You’re leaving already?” Joseph lifted his head and smiled softly at Rook.

 

“Yes, if we wait until the food and water eventually run out, it will be too late to go collect them, for other people will have gotten to them before us.” Still, Rook wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone in the bunker, even though he had just a while ago been hoping to get rid of Seed. Regardless, he swallowed his words and simply nodded. “Is there anything you would hope I found for you during my travels?” God, he was making it sound like he was going on a fun and exciting trip somewhere exotic. Rook resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck, his hair softly brushing against his knuckles.

 

“Yeah, while you’re out there, could you look for another gasmask? And some clothes. I feel disgusting being in the same clothes all the time...” Joseph nodded. The both of them had been wearing whatever clothes that Dutch had at his bunker, but most of those either didn't fit them or were already dirty to begin with. Dutch apparently hadn’t thought that it was needed to wash his clothes while he prepared for the apocalypse. On the subject of Dutch… He grabbed Joseph’s wrist as he was starting to walk away. The cult leader came to a halt and slowly turned his head, looking right at him, his eyes piercing right through him, staring into his very soul. Rook swallowed, hesitating for a moment. “Um. I…” He blinked and let go of Joseph’s wrist. “What’d you do with his body? With, uh, Dutch’s body, that is.” 

 

Joseph seemed to be choosing his words carefully, brows furrowing just slightly. Eventually he turned his whole body around and grabbed Rook’s one hand into his both, fingers gently caressing along the deputy's wrist. “I sent him to God.” He stared at the deputy intensely, his frame threatening and welcoming at the same time. Rook swallowed, throat dry by now, removing his hand from Joseph’s. The man seemed displeased with this, like he wanted to hold his hand for just a while longer. Letting out a broken exhale, Rook looked away.

 

“...Right.” 

 

“I will return soon. Do not leave this bunker.” Before Rook could even attempt to form an answer, Joseph was walking away. He watched as he disappeared from his sight, his shoulders drooping slightly. He heard the two pairs of outer doors of the bunker open and close, and then just silence. Again.

 

Rook sighed into his own hands before getting up and rubbing his wrists. He decided the smartest choice right now would be to eat the food Joseph had prepared for him. He grabbed the small notebook as he walked to the kitchen, where there was a small bowl with what was most likely half canned soup inside of it. There was another bowl next to it, but that one was empty. Rook assumed Joseph had eaten the other half of the can. He sat down, grabbing the bottle of water in the middle of the table and taking a long sip, first then realizing how dry his throat really felt. He sighed, opening the notebook as he grabbed a spoon and started reading whatever nonsense Joseph had scribbled down onto the paper.

 

 

It took a while before Joseph came back. Rook had read the text twice by now, it was just a jumbled up summary of what had happened ever since Rook entered Hope’s County, about how he was chosen, how he and Joseph were both meant to survive the end of the world, along with snippets from Joseph's past. He had started wondering if the Father was even going to come back, but then out of nowhere, the first pair of doors flew open, a moment later the second ones flew open as well, the sound of them slamming against the wall echoing throughout the whole bunker. Rook got up from the bed, quickly making his way to the doors, finding Joseph leaning against the wall, a bag on the floor and one on his back, the gasmask still on his face. His shirt was mostly gone, torn to shreds, the unbuttoned jacket on top of it seemingly fine, but that wasn’t what Rook was concerned about at that moment, he was concerned by the sheer amount of blood covering the mans torso.

 

“Holy shit, what the fuck happened?!” Rook quickly grabbed Joseph, hoisting him away from the wall and helping him deeper into the bunker, even though he seemed to be of the opinion that he could walk just fine by himself. Rook persisted anyway, holding onto the man as they made their way through the halls of the bunker. “Joseph- Joseph, oh my god...” He made the man sit down as he took the backpack off of him and laid it down nearby, helping him remove his coat as well. He reached up and removed the gas mask, tossing it to the side before pulling off the rest of his shirt, using the shreds to wipe some of the blood away. Joseph started humming a quiet tune, finally looking down at his body instead of unnervingly staring at Rook with an empty, glazed look in his eyes. After the blood was mostly gone, Rook found the source of the bleeding. There was a huge gauche right below his chest, running right through the word Eden on his tattoo. Rook quickly pressed the cloth against the wound, ordering Joseph to press down on it. The man did as told, expression neutral. With a moment of hesitation, Rook got up and quickly brought the medkit and a bottle of alcohol to Joseph, hands shaking slightly as he set the medkit aside. He hesitated before placing a hand on the mans shoulder in a comforting manner. It felt weird. He pulled away with a small cough. “This might sting a bit.” He muttered, moving the man's hands out of the way as he poured the booze on the wound, the man below him flinching only slightly, hands in the air, shreds of his shirt still in one of them. Rook pulled a white cloth from the medkit, pressing it against Joseph's tattoo, where the slash was, guiding the man to sit up straighter as he wrapped it around his body, tight enough to stay still but not tight enough to hurt. Once he was done, he pressed a hand gently down against it, looking for a normal human reaction from the Father, but there was nothing. He just stared back at him, smiling softly.

 

“Thank you, my child.” Rook nodded, looking down at the floor where he was still sat in front of the man, hands toying with the hem of his shirt. When he looked back up at Joseph, he was staring down at his chest, finally dropping the shirt shreds to the floor. Rook cleared his throat, trying to get Joseph’s attention on him, but the man didn’t seem to really care at the moment. Rook wondered if he even felt pain, frowning at the thought of him suffering silently. He shook his head softly.

 

“Will you tell me what happened?” He questioned, though he knew he wasn’t going to get a straight answer from the man. Joseph sighed, blinking a few times but not yet meeting his eyes.

 

“I have betrayed God, I failed my mission. I wasn’t able to save people from...all of this.” Joseph furrowed his brows, motioning with his hands slightly as he spoke, not as enthusiastic as he usually was when speaking about what God’s will was, or what God told him, or anything relating to God. He just seemed drained, tired. A little sad, perhaps. After a long pause, he finally spoke up again. “So, he has punished me.” Joseph ran a finger down his chest, Rook’s eyes following the movement, they traveled over the area of the wound, only stopping right above the LUST that was carved into the skin of his abdomen. Sometimes Rook wondered what he did to deserve that. His fingers continued moving after a moment, finding the L on his abdomen, tracing the harsh lines of the scar. “My right to enter through the gates of Eden has been denied. He has shown that to me with this.” His other hand settled down on top of the wound, the other still tracing the letters.

 

“I’m sorry?” Rook muttered after a moment of silence, looking away from where his fingers were tracing the last letter, and up at his face, hesitantly placing a hand over Joseph’s. The man finally met his eyes, looking conflicted. He stopped tracing the letters, just silently staring into Rook’s eyes, the air between them becoming uncomfortable after a while.

 

“Did you read what I had written for you?” He finally asked, removing his hands from his own skin, instead taking hold of Rook’s hand, holding it between his two bigger ones. Rook nodded.

 

“I did.”

 

Joseph smiled. “I am glad.” He told Rook, his words matching the emotions on his face for once. Rook returned him a tight lipped smile from where he was still on his knees. “Did you enjoy what you read?”

 

“I uh… Sure?” The deputy replied, fingers twitching in Joseph’s hold slightly, not sure what to say, not wanting to upset the older man. “It’s not what I usually read but um. It- it was nice.” There was a slight questioning tone to his voice, unsure whether or not that was the right thing to say, his jaw clenching when Joseph’s smile dropped and his hold on Rook’s hand tightened.

 

“I could write some more if you’d like.” It sounded more like a statement, telling Rook what he was going to do instead of a suggestion that Rook could reply to. He felt like he still should, not wanting the awkward silence to take over again. 

 

He let out a forced chuckle, looking away from Joseph as he attempted to pull his hand away. “It’s alright. You don’t have to-” Josephs hold tightened and he tugged Rook closer, cutting him off and forcing him to meet his eyes again. Rook swallowed. Joseph’s eyes followed the movement.

 

“You will reach atonement with me.” His voice dropped into a low, horrifyingly calm tone. “I shall make you understand. With the help of the text.” He grabbed the sides of Rook’s face, forcing him to sit up on his knees as he pulled him closer, Rook’s hands grasping his wrists, eyes wide as he stared into Joseph. A smile spread on Joseph’s lips, but it wasn’t his usual soft smile. It was something entirely different. “I’ll become worthy again. So I can walk through Eden’s Gates with you by my side.” Rook stared at him in slight fear, fingers wrapped around his wrists, sweat prickling at the back of his neck. He swallowed. Joseph seemed to be expecting something from him, some kind of answer, but Rook had nothing. He just gaped at the man, mouth opening, no sound coming out. One of his hands slipped off of Joseph’s wrist and he quickly grabbed his shoulder for support to stop himself from ramming his forehead into the other mans. Joseph just laughed, eventually pulling him close enough that his breath was hot against Rook’s ear. “ _ Whatever it takes. We will reach Eden's Gate together _ .”


	2. A teenage girls diary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph and Rook argue. There is a prophecy and there is death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you guys are enjoying this so far but i hope you are! I put a lot of work into this so i really hope you like it

A few days passed, consisting mostly of Joseph telling Rook to turn the music down, acting as if he hadn’t been the one to bring a crate filled with music to the deputy on his trip outside. Rook always turned it down and waited for Joseph to exit the room, and then turned it back up. Unfortunately for him, Joseph was much too patient, continuously returning to the room to ask him to turn it down. This continued for what Rook assumed to be a few hours, but eventually Rook got bored of it and turned the music off entirely. He’d asked Joseph how long they had been down in the bunker, and Joseph told him a little over two weeks. He was shocked, for that meant he hadn’t eaten in almost two weeks. No wonder he felt so tired during his time handcuffed to the bed. He wondered where Joseph had been sleeping, he had to have slept at some point during the two weeks. He asked how Joseph kept track of the time, and the man handed him a notebook, which, when opened, resembled a teenage girls diary. Rook decided not to comment on that, and instead read some of the text. Most of it seemed to be the same type of rambling that was in the notebook he’d made for Rook, but some of it was actually sensible, him writing down about what supplies were being used, using some type of math in an attempt to predict how long each supply would last them and when they’d have to go on another supply run, though Rook didn’t understand half of it. He never was one for complex math. Each entry also had a date along with a few having small illustrations, usually at the bottom of the page, which, creepily enough, mostly consisted of Rook’s sleeping face, though there were a few of his brothers and one with a flower with a little speech bubble that said ‘i’m sorry for not saving you’. He assumed that one was hinting at Faith and her death. There was a page that was just a drawing of what seemed to be the collapse with Joseph standing in the middle of everything, though it seemed unfinished, as it looked like there was someone standing next to him but he never finished the drawing, so they were just a vague figure. There was one page that differed, worried him most, and it was one that Joseph had almost torn off, it had words and sentences written on it in an aggressive manner, in big bold letters, kind of resembling Joseph’s scars. Such things as ‘SINNER’ and ‘SNAKE’ were the most written words, the latter occasionally followed by ‘IN THE GARDEN’. Rook knew this one was aimed at him, and Joseph showed as much with the way his entire body tensed when Rook turned the page that revealed it. Rook had decided he’d read enough, closing it and handing it back to Joseph.

 

When Rook wasn’t being forced to read Joseph’s weird writings, he was usually either exercising in any way possible or laying on the couch that was in the living room. He remembered what it looked like when Dutch still lived here, it was messy and had used paper plates and empty beers on the table. But Joseph had not liked that, and had cleaned the whole room- no, the whole bunker while Rook had been handcuffed to the bed. Rook hated to admit it, but he actually preferred it this way, with everything in some kind of order and with the paper plates in the trash and the beer bottles in a box to be re-used if needed. Joseph had replaced all the paper plates with real plates, though he had kept the unused and clean paper plates around. He hadn’t really changed the interior other than hanging up a few peggie flags that he got on his trip outside. Rook didn’t particularly enjoy them, but they didn't really bother him either. There was one room he’d changed though. The room with the monitors that Dutch had used to keep an eye on the island, they were most likely just showing static now, if they even were on. Rook didn't really know what Joseph had done to the room, as he’d taken down the American flag that used to be on the roof of that room, and hung it up in the doorway as a substitute for a door.

 

“Deputy.”

 

Rook jumped slightly, leaning up from the lying position he was in on the couch and looked up at the Father, standing next to the couch, his shirtless torso was illuminated by the blue light of the aquarium.

 

“Joseph.” His eyes darted to where he had unwrapped his midsection, the wound on it looking no better than it did when he got it. Rook still didn’t know where he got it from, but he was more worried about it getting infected. He frowned and brought his gaze up to meet the Father’s own. “Your wound, it’s not healed yet-” Joseph raised his hand, shaking his head softly. Rook could tell he had been scratching at the edges of the wound, but that wasn’t all of it. The ‘WRATH’ on his arm had also been...reinforced, so to say. Rook quickly sat up and went to grab his wrist but Joseph stepped away, frowning. “Joseph–”

 

“I am here to ask for assistance from you.” Joseph blankly stated. “Not to be judged by the sakes of you.” He sneered slightly before he reached back with his uninjured arm and pulled out a knife from the back pocket of his jeans, causing Rook to get up from the couch and step away from the man.

 

“Hey now– y-you don’t gotta do that, man.” His voice cracked but he was too busy concentrating on not being stabbed to care. He raised his hands up and let out a tense laugh. “Put the knife away, we’re both adults here, right? Whatever it is you’re upset about, I’m sure we can talk it through!” He looked at Joseph with wide eyes, his gaze occasionally darting down to look at the knife, make sure the older didn’t make any sudden moves. Joseph opened his mouth to speak, but Rook cut him off. “I mean, come on, if- if I die, you’ll be all alone. What- what’ll happen to the whole getting to Eden’s Gates together plan? That–”

 

“Calm down.” The Father reached out to grab him by the shoulder, but he stepped away, causing the other to sigh and shake his head. “I wish you no harm,” Joseph turned the knife around in his hand, offering the shaft to Rook. He slowly reached out and took it from him. “See?”

 

“Ah.” Rook awkwardly looked down at the knife. Joseph wasn’t trying to kill him. “Right. My bad.” He let out a dry laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, meeting Joseph's eyes. “What do you want me to do with this?”

 

“I need you to do John’s work.”

 

Rook furrowed his brows at the statement. “John’s work?” He questioned. What did Joseph even mean with that?

 

“Yes.”

 

Rook blinked at the man. So he did hear him correctly. John’s work. Rook thought about it. John carved a word into his chest. He carved sins into people. The Deputy brought a hand to his chest, rubbing over the scars with sour expression. “Wait, are you…? You want me to- oh hell no, I’m not carving words into my skin. Not happening.” If Joseph thought he’d sinned and he deserved to be punished for it, he was going to have to pin him down and do it himself. Then again, would that really be that unpleasant?

 

God, Rook wanted to slap himself, why was he even thinking like that? He cleared his throat.

 

Joseph sighed, seemingly getting tired of Rook’s nonsense. “Not into you. I need you to remind me of my sins. Cut them open again.” He spoke as if that was something ordinary, something Rook did on a daily basis. As if it was normal.

 

“That’s… oh.” He didn't know what to say to that. He furrowed his brows, wondering what it was like up in this madman's head.

 

The Father just hummed, bringing a hand up to Rook’s face, pushing his outgrown hair away from his face. “You think I would hurt you, just like that?”

 

“To be fair, you were trying to kill me not too long ago.” Rook let out a small tense laugh as he stepped away from the man, his hand falling away from his face. He looked at Joseph through his bangs as he played with the knife in his hands. “And when we got here, you told me you should kill me for- well.” He looked away.

 

“For a good reason.” Joseph said, frowning, his hand falling back to his side. “But we’re family now, are we not?” Roon wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to be considered family by this man. His family was dead, he killed his daughter, and if Faith could be believed, did even worse things to her. He and Rook were supposed to be mortal enemies, they were nowhere close to family, their interactions weren’t those of family, the way they sometimes looked at eachother with pure hatred was not something ones family would do.

 

Rook wanted to argue his point, but at the look on Joseph’s face he raised his hands slightly and nodded, swallowing his protest. “Yeah, family, whatever you say.” He tensed when Joseph moved, turning his body away from Rook slightly, disappointed in him, staring blankly at the table next to Rook’s legs. He sighed, a soft sound as he looked up after a few moments of silence, eyes soft once more. Rook felt shivers up his spine at his gaze.

 

“Stop fearing me.” Joseph sighed. “Please.”

 

“Kinda hard not to fear you.” Rook admitted.

 

At that, Joseph smirked, a soft laugh leaving him as he moved closer to Rook. Rook felt like he should step away, but he stayed still. Joseph said he wouldn’t hurt him, and even though he did not trust him, he didn’t want to give him more of a reason to lash out at him. “I could say the same about you.” Joseph’s smirk fell. “You killed my brothers, Faith, brought this destruction upon us.” It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, Rook let out a ridiculed laugh. Joseph couldn't be serious. But when Joseph continued staring at him with a blank expression, Rook stopped finding it funny.

 

“I brought this? I caused the end of the world?” He asked, not believing he even had to ask that. Joseph could not possibly think that. But the man nodded, his fingers pressing against the wound on his stomach. Rook wanted to stop him, but didn’t. If he wanted to bleed out or die of infection, so be it.

 

“Yes, you were part of my prophecy. I saw you.” The Father looked down, staring at the scar on Rook’s chest. He muttered something inaudible to himself, which Rook ignored.

 

“I was part of your prophecy.” Joseph met his eyes when he started speaking, making him hesitate just slightly. “That- that means you can blame me for the bombs that hit Montana. Right. That makes so much sense.” Rook let out a shaky laugh and crossed his arms, staring at Joseph with a sneer forming on his lips. “You’re out of your mind.”

 

“I know what I saw.” Joseph’s voice was a whisper. He brought a hand to his temple closing his hands, the other hand grabbing Rook’s shoulder. “I saw _you_ , I saw myself, we were in the middle of the ruins, you stood there _with_ me.” He pulled Rook closer, eyes shooting open as he sneered at him, Rook’s hands flying up between them, the knife digging into Joseph’s collar bone, cutting the bird tattoo. Joseph didn’t seem to care as he pressed closer, the blade drawing blood. Rook tried to pull away but Joseph didn’t budge. “You were burning with my brothers and Faith but you stepped out of the fire and you took my hand.” The older man drawled, hand on Rook's shoulder sliding down to his bicep, his fingers squeezing, before sliding up to Rook’s neck and pulling him closer, his forehead nearly against the others, watching as Joseph’s eyes fluttered shut. The hand at Joseph’s temple moved, keeping his thumb against his head as his other fingers reached for Rook, softly brushing against his forehead. “God had showed you to me.” He whispered. “And God didn’t let you be taken.” He opened his eyes once more. “You’re here for a reason.”

 

Rook let out a barking laugh, finally snapping out of his confused state. He shoved at Joseph’s chest aggressively, getting some of the fresh blood on his hand as let the knife fall to the floor, the sound echoing through the bunker. He tore himself away from the man's hold, sneering. “You know what you _saw_ ? What your God _showed you_ ? No. _No_ , you’re fucking crazy, that's what you are.” Rook took another step backcas Joseph tried to take hold of him, matching the man's glare with his own. “Fuck you, fuck your family, fuck your God, fuck your cult, fuck everything you stand for. You can not blame me for this-” He laughed breathily, eyes wide and expression wild, “You can NOT put this all on ME.” He was nearly yelling at this point, almost startling himself as he noticed the volume of his voice. He cleared his throat and looked away, shaking his head. The blue light in the room was starting to give him a headache. “You started the fucking cult.” He said after a while, voice calm. He met Joseph’s stare. “You killed people, Joseph. So many people, dead. Killed, tortured. And the angels, God only knows what the fuck you did to them.” He smiled to himself, laughing softly as he shook his head. He brought his hand to Joseph’s chest, spreading the blood from one side of the other, both of their eyes following the movement of his fingers, lifting his finger when he got to the other side of his collarbone, some blood still on his hand, he wiped it onto Joseph’s shoulder. Once he was finished, he dropped his hand, looking at Joseph’s face, trying to read his expression. There was so much, but so little at the same time. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, shaking his head. “So all of this? It’s not on me, Joseph. None of this is on me. I saved the world from you and your siblings.” He leaned down and grabbed the knife on the floor, feeling Joseph’s eyes on him the entire time. He stood up, cleaning the blade against his jeans. “So next time you want someone to fucking blame? Try looking in the fucking mirror.” He grabbed Joseph’s wrist, bringing his hand up and placed the knife into it, wrapping the man's fingers around the blade end of the knife with a small smile. “Here’s your fucking knife back. I’m not gonna carve any words into your skin, if you want that done, you can do it yourself. If you kill yourself while you’re at it, that’s not my problem. I’m not John, I’m not one of your fucked up cultists, I’m not your child, not your fucking family.” Rook stepped back, his back hitting the fishtank in the room, causing him to look behind him and be momentarily distracted. Even if it was just a second, it was long enough for Joseph.

 

“You will regret this.” The man grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back in to his own space. He sneered, clearly unsure of what to say. He had no power down here and he knew it. “I’ll–”

 

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Kill me? Handcuff me again? Good luck with that.” Rook laughed dryly, tugging his arm out of Joseph’s grasp and pushed past him, walking out of the door and left Joseph alone, the knife in his hand digging into his palm, blood dripping on the floor. He yelled something after Rook, but the deputy didn't listen. Soon enough, the blaring music returned and Joseph was left alone in the living room.

 

Rook had put the music on as he dug around in the room, his jacket flung over his shoulder as he found the gasmask in a locked drawer that he kicked so hard it opened, the key to the locked room with all the weapons was in the drawer as well. He took both. From the room he grabbed himself a pistol, the music still blaring through the bunker. He passed the living room on his way out, but Joseph was long gone, the bloodied knife left on the table. Rook wondered what the man was up to as he walked all the way to the bunker doors, hesitating for a while before stepping through. He closed the first pair behind himself, walking up the stairs with a bad feeling in the back of his head. He pushed the doors open, the brightness of the outside world shocking him for a moment. But when it all cleared and he could see… He wished he didn’t.

 

It was too silent, that was the first thing he realized after noticing the obvious destruction around himself. After that, he noticed the cold. It had been summer when the bombs struck, it shouldn’t be so cold. He let the doors shut behind himself as he walked towards the lake, eyes wide as he stared at the world around himself. In his shock, he realized he hadn’t put the gas mask on, and quickly covered his face, fingers shaky as he tried to put the mask on properly. Once he was sure it was on correctly, he crouched down by the lake, grabbing a small rock and tossed it into the water. Nothing happened. After a moment of hesitation, he put a careful finger into the water, followed by his whole hand. Why wasn’t anything happening? The water was really cold, but other than that, it wasn’t doing anything to him. He took his hand out and wiped it on his jacket, standing up with a frown. Maybe people could survive out here, someone had to have survived, since someone had attacked Joseph, the man hadn’t cut his own chest open, or so Rook hoped. In all the silence, he suddenly heard a scream. He sprung into action in a blink of an eye, his pistol out as he ran towards the scream. That confirmed it! Someone else was alive. Someone else had survived! He sprinted as quick as he could towards the source of the sound, the ground hard and cold below his boots. He came to a halting stop as he saw it. Her. He had to remind himself this was a person.

 

“Jess…?” He muttered, recognizing the hunter on the ground, her eyes wide and empty of all emotion, a gaping hole in her throat, it looked like it had been ripped out by something. Rook didn't know what that something was, he didn't _want_ to know what that something was. He stumbled backwards, falling to the ground, his pistol flying a few feet away as he tried to get away from the corpse of the woman. Her clothes were drenched in blood, the gasmask formerly on her face was in pieces next to her body. Rook couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He needed to run. Needed to run before whatever it was that killed Jess returned. He had to go back. He let out a strangled scream as he got up to his feet, somehow finding his way back to the bunker in his fucked state of mind, stopping at the doors to look after him. He hesitated as he thought he saw something stare back at him from the woods. He blinked, and it was gone. What followed was a low animalistic groan from the forest, it made Rook’s hair stand in end and his skin crawl. He quickly climbed inside of the bunker, locking the doors behind himself. Once he was through the second door, he sat down on the ground, pulling the gasmask off his face as he started to violently hyperventilate. He kept running his hands through his hair, repeating “what the fuck, what the fuck” to himself. He didn't know what that was- didn't look like any animal he’d ever heard of.

 

When he eventually calmed down to the point of being able to stand up, he made his way to the living room, where Joseph’s blood was still on the floor. He considered cleaning it but he didn't really have the energy for that, so he backed out of the living room and continued walking until he reached the bedroom, where he sat for the rest of the night. There was a clock in the room now, which Rook stared at for hours. He didn't see or hear anything from Joseph for the rest of the day. There was a moment when he wondered if the man had carved words into himself to the point of bleeding to death, but he assumed that wasn't the case, since he was pretty sure suicide was considered a sin. Or so he hoped, at least. Trying not to think too hard about it, Rook decided to just get some rest, calm down for the night. Hopefully he would be able to forget what he saw in the forest…

 

Probably not, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are very appriciated!


	3. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pictures, glass, family, blood. Joseph's not doing great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for like, the usual shit. Blood. Violence. Mention of drugs. Bittersweet ending.

Two days had passed since the incident outside. Two days had passed since the last time he saw Joseph.

 

Rook didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting worried. As much as he didn’t want to be near Joseph or ever see him again, he loathed the idea of having to be alone for many years even more. If Joseph disappeared or died, he’d surely go insane.

 

But, he knew Joseph wasn’t dead. Since the blood in the living room, from when he and Joseph had their little argument, was gone and Rook definitely hadn’t cleaned it, along with the room with all the bunkbeds was missing a mattress, pillow and blanket, which meant Joseph had to have been up to something while Rook slept. There was also a water bottle missing, which meant the man was making sure he didn't die of dehydration, which was good. At least he wouldn't leave Rook alone for now. But, still, Rook was worried. He didn't want Joseph to go insane, either. Or- well, more insane than he already was. He paced around the bunker, passing by the little “church” Joseph had built himself into the old monitor room a few times. After a while of considering his options and weighing the possible outcomes, he decided he was going to invade the mans privacy and finally enter the room that he wasn’t allowed to enter, according to Joseph. He’d not actually been into the room Joseph had claimed as his own, as the man didn’t really seem willing to share his, ah, moments with God, or whatever. Rook wasn’t really sure what he did there, he’d heard him praying (rather aggressively) at some point, which was why he’d come to the conclusion that it was probably some sort of replacement for his old church.

 

Rook frowned. He had to do it eventually anyway, so why wait any longer. He let out a shaky breath. “Joseph?” He called softly, voice wavering slightly as he stood behind the American flag Joseph had taken from the roof of the room and hung up as a door. He didn't want to just walk in, he knew what Joseph could be like, and he didn’t feel like getting shot or drugged. "I’m coming inside.” He said, louder this time. The man didn't reply. With a shaky inhale, he pushed the flag aside and stepped in.

 

His eyes widened as he saw what Joseph had done to the room. There were pictures of Joseph’s siblings on all the monitor screens, peggie flags hanging from every corner of the room, the only thing that had been nearly untouched compared to the rest of the room, was the board with the pictures of Joseph and his siblings, though the notes about the Seed family had been changed and he had taken his own picture down entirely. Rook could see it laying on the floor nearby, torn in two. He couldn't read what the texts read, he just knew it wasn’t the same as it used to be. There was a mattress right underneath the board, where he found that Joseph was laying on, his shirt long gone. The mattress was partly bloody and there were shards of glass on the floor next to it, probably from the empty and broken picture frame. The picture that had most likely been in the frame was in Joseph’s hand, pressed against his chest, Rook couldn't see what it was. In his other hand, he had a loose grip on a pistol. The deputy swallowed. “Joseph?”

 

No answer.

 

Rook chewed the inside of his cheek, nervously taking a step forwards, the shards of glass crunching loudly underneath his boot. Joseph jerked awake, his eyes shooting open as they looked for the source of sound, staring at Rook’s shoes for a while before finally meeting his gaze. He seemed somewhat annoyed at being so rudely awakened, muttering something to himself as he sat up. He held the picture in his hands, opening the slightly crumpled paper and looked down on it, smoothing it out gently, his hand moving over the people in it. Rook could see it was a family picture, he’d seen that one somewhere before… He frowned softly as he looked down at his feet, pushing the glass out of his way as he moved to sit down on the mattress next to Joseph. The older man didn’t seem to care much, simply scooting a bit further away from the deputy. The two of them sat in silence for a while. Rook decided to break that silence. “Do you miss them?”

 

Joseph furrowed his brows at the question, finally meeting his eyes. Rook nodded to the picture. Joseph seemed to hesitate, a range of emotions flashing across his face before settling on annoyance. “Of _course_ I do.” He sneered, glaring down at the picture. He opened his mouth to speak but after not finding the right words, he closed it, swallowed down whatever he’d wanted to say. He was quiet for a moment, fingers playing with the corners of the picture. “They’re my _family_. I was supposed to walk to Eden with them.” His voice was softer now, edging on desperation.

 

Rook let out a quiet, embarrassed sound, not quite a whine, but close. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say now. He gave Joseph a tight-lipped nod and averted his gaze. “Yeah, I- yeah, that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” He laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension. It didn’t work. When Joseph didn’t say anything, he lifted his head to look at him again. “Who do you miss the most?” He asked, voice quieter now. The Father hesitated for a while, for a moment looking like he was about to lash out at Rook, but ended up just letting out a shaky exhale as his facial expression neutralized and he looked over at the monitors.

 

“John.” He admitted. Rook nodded. That made sense, the two of them had been very close as far as Rook could tell.

 

“I can tell you really loved him.” Joseph seemed to ignore him, not responding or even reacting to what he said. He decided to push a little. “I… I listened to the voicemail you left him.” At that, he could see how Joseph furrowed his brows, clenching his jaw as he turned his head just slightly towards Rook, body language for ‘I’m listening’. Rook swallowed. “I don't know if he ever got to listen to it, but, for what it’s worth, his last words were about you. And your…” Rook hesitated for a moment, searching for the appropriate word  to use, what would upset Joseph the least. He settled on, “Prophecy.” Joseph had called them by that name as well, and even if Rook might not believe him, it didn’t mean he should call them hallucinations in front of Joseph. The man didn’t seem to mind his choice of words, if he even cared at all, so Rook continued “He really believed in you.” Joseph hummed in response, his tense shoulders dropping slightly as he leaned back, looking at Rook. The former deputy felt unsure, wondering if he’d said too much. His throat felt like sandpaper as he paused once more, trying to swallow, but he was unsuccessful, throat much too dry. Joseph noticed this and silently offered him the last of his own bottle of water, which Rook downed pretty quickly. He hadn’t dared to drink barely anything, constantly fearing that they’d run out if supplies, even though they had enough for many years. He didn’t really know which water he was allowed to drink and he already felt like he was often on thin ice with Joseph, more so in that moment than ever before, so he wasn’t going to ask. After giving it a little thought, he placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder, slowly, fingers squeezing slightly. It was akin to the way his father used to try to comfort him when he was younger. Joseph met his eyes and the two stared at each other for a few heartbeats before Rook averted his gaze and looked down at where his fingers were clutching Joseph’s shoulder. His skin was smooth and warm under his touch. “And… I know it won't matter much, but I needed to tell you, I really am sorry. I never wanted…” He lifted his hand from his shoulder for a moment and motioned around them, before putting it back down. “I wish things were different. I never meant for things to turn out like this. I’m sorry-” His sentence cut off with a pained wince.

 

Joseph had interrupted him by grabbing his wrist, hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to leave a mark. Rook was forced to meet his eyes again. Now he knew that he’d fucked up. He tried to pull away, letting out a small pained laugh as Joseph squeezed tighter. “You took my family. But you’re sorry. So that makes it all fine?”

 

Joseph looked unnervingly calm, considering the situation. Rook tugged at his hand again, there would be bruises in the shape of Joseph's fingers. “No-”

 

The Father sneered. “You don't understand.” His face finally showed the anger he’d lacked a moment ago. Rook wasn’t sure which he preferred. Joseph turned, his grip still tight on Rook’s wrist, facing the man as his other hand moved to the floor to support his weight, sinking his hand directly into the shards of glass as he did so. Rook was forced to turn with him, his own free hand moving and grabbing Joseph's bicep. The man in front of him looked almost desperate, nostrils flaring as he considered his words. “I- _we_ could have saved so many people, but _you.._. You ruined everything, you doomed everyone to certain death when you blew up those bunkers.” Joseph’s gaze was intense, too intense. His hand flexed as the glass dug deeper by every passing second as he spoke, leaning forwards, further into Rook’s personal space. “We could have had something beautiful! You could have joined us. You could have been our family from the start.” The Father seemed to hesitate, eyes flickering from Rook’s eyes down to the blood leaking from his hand and onto the floor. He lifted the hand and shuffled to sit on his knees, his injured hand going to wrap fingers around Rook’s other wrist. “I wanted you there.” He said, voice soft, quieter now. “I saw something in you. Something special.”

 

Rook could see the pain in his eyes. It was just for a brief moment before anger washed over it again, but it had been there. He swallowed harshly, twisting his wrist in the bloodied grip. His eyes flickered down to the space between them as he tried to look for something to say, but nothing was coming to him.

 

“I forgive you.”

 

Rooks eyes darted back up to meet Joseph’s. He hesitated. Did he hear that right? He cleared his throat. “What?”

 

“I told you before all this happened” Joseph said, “when I offered for you to walk away and take your friends. I told you. Told you that I’d forgive you.” The man's fingers twitched around his wrist, brows furrowing slightly. Rook watched him, confused, not understanding where this was coming from. He supposed that was a side-effect of living with a crazy person. He realized he’d been quiet for a while, the tension had started to rise up again.

 

He bit the inside of his cheek. “But I didn’t walk away.”

 

“No, you didn’t.”

 

Rook did wonder, what if he had walked away? Would things be different? Would Joseph really have let him leave? He had no way of knowing. He swallowed, tasting blood from where he’d bit down too hard. “So… Why, then?”

 

This time, it was Joseph who looked away. “Because,” He seemed to hesitate, “You can’t change your past. None of us can. You can simply hope to better yourself.” There was silence between them once more after that, making Rook’s mind travel. He always knew Joseph had a way with words. He had noticed it ever since he saw the Father for the first time. He saw him press his thumbs into someones eye sockets. He saw him do horrible things, heard stories of even worse, but the way he spoke... It became more apparent the more he heard him speak. Each outpost he took out, he heard Joseph’s words all around their houses, camps, everywhere, he heard him say things that Rook agreed with, he understood why people wanted to join him. He was so welcoming, so open, so loving. Or so it seemed, as long as you did as he wanted. As long as you didn’t try to leave. He blinked, realized Joseph had begun speaking again. “The night after… After I lost my wife and daughter... I, I regretted everything that built up to that moment. I wondered- _considered_ , every single thing I could have done even just slightly differently. Maybe they’d still be alive. If only I wasn’t so selfish.” The weight of his words were heavy in the air between the two. Rook could feel sweat building up between his palms and Joseph’s skin, his pinkie curling into his palm, nail scratching Joseph's shoulder. He didn’t seem to care. “But, the truth is, no matter what I do or say, they’re never coming back. And neither are my brothers or Faith.” He was quiet again for a moment, letting go of Rook’s other wrist, letting his hand travel up the deputy’s arm. His eyes followed the movements of his own hand, but Rook kept an eye on his face. Just in case. Joseph pulled at the short sleeve of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material. He sighed. “I’d seen John’s death many times. I saw him be killed and I saw him kill. I saw him die old, I saw him die young. I saw you. You were there with him, his final words were always meant to be yours.” He let his hand fall, met Rook’s eyes again.

 

Fingers twitching against Joseph’s shoulders, he swallowed. “The difference was… How much love he let into his heart.”

 

“Yes,as you know. But he… He didn’t… You, didn’t. I-” Joseph sneered at his own stuttering and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. He is gone, and he isn’t coming back. You made sure of that.” He didn’t even look Rook in the eye as he said that, but before the deputy got the chance to defend his own actions, Joseph was speaking once more. “He let his sin take control. I assume that we are not going to meet him at the Gates. I hope that he did make it, but in the end, that’s not up to me.” He paused, a soft sigh leaving his lips. “It’s up to him.”

 

“God?” Rook suggested.

 

Joseph gave him a pointed look. “No. John.”

 

“Oh.” He looked away, slightly embarrassed.

 

“We do not control our lives, but we control the choices we make and we decide if we want to truly be better. Whether or not we want to get in to Eden.” Joseph explained, his voice soothing and calm, lulling Rook into a false sense of security. “I don’t think John truly wanted that in his heart.”

 

“You think he wanted, uh, the sin instead?” Rook asked, surprised to find himself genuinely wanting to learn more about the youngest brother.

 

Joseph hummed in thought, looking at him, intrigued. “Perhaps. But more likely the things he starved for were not the sin, but yet they resulted in sin.”

 

“What about you?” At that, Joseph tilted his head, squinting at him. Confused. Asking him what he meant, without words. Rook swallowed. “Since your tattoo…” He let his now free hand slide down from his shoulder, down to Joseph’s abdomen, running his fingers carefully across the Eden tattoo, not touching the irritated wound, but roaming close. Joseph’s eyes followed his each movement very carefully. “If… If God doesn’t decide, then how do you know the Gate’s are closed?”

 

It took a while for Joseph to respond, but eventually, he did. A sigh escaped his lips as he took hold of Rook’s wrist once more. “I failed him. I must better myself. It is just a way of showing me that I can be better.” He pulled Rook by his wrist, forcing him to spread his fingers as he pressed his palm directly onto his wound. Rook could feel the heat radiating from it.

 

Rook furrowed his brows. “Killing your own daughter wasn’t enough?” Only once the words left his mouth, did he realize what he’d said. His eyes widened and he quickly met Joseph’s stare in mild panic. “I- I didn’t mean it like that-” He sputtered, pulling his hands away from Josephs grip, surprised when the man let him. “You told me God told you to sacrifice your daughter to him! So- I just thought. Wouldn’t he consider that enough from you? That’s a pretty big sacrifice to make? Um.” He blinked at Joseph, scooting slightly further away from him as he wasn’t responding in any way.

 

Joseph finally sighed, shoulders dropping as he shook his head. "Calm down.”

 

“...Sorry.”

 

Silence fell between them for a while. Rook fiddled with his thumbs, brows furrowed, lips turning down slightly at the corners of his mouth. Neither of them did or said anything, moments passing by, the seconds ticking slowly, their breathing seeming loud in the silence between them. Joseph looked down at the picture, remembering a time before all this. Back when Faith was just Rachel, when Jacob had to be watched while he slept, make sure he didn’t hurt others or himself as he woke from one of his nightmares, Joseph often being the one to stay with him, before going back with John, back when they both lived at the ranch. John had trouble sleeping too, but his nightmares were different than Jacobs. He just saw figures, heard their voices. All the yelling… Joseph found him curled in a corner more than once. Once he succeeded in making sure John was clean, he and Faith both, the nightmares calmed down. The reason he’d even taken Faith in was because of John. He wished for someone John could portray his problems to, someone who could actually relate to him, someone who understood him. Really understood him. But then the visions came. Of John’s death. He didn’t tell him. Couldn’t. Instead he moved out of the ranch, resulting in John destroying a lot of his things in a fit of rage. Jacob and Faith tried calming him down, but Joseph knew they wouldn’t help. So he came back, stripped himself of his outer layers and told John to take the anger out on him. That’s when he got Envy, Wrath and Greed onto his skin. Later came Lust. After that, Sloth, then Pride. After Pride, Envy was crossed out, and carved above them, Gluttony. He showed John parts of him no one else had ever seen. He revealed himself to him, letting John close once more. Hoping. Praying.

 

Then the Deputy showed up. He recognized him from his visions. He wanted to keep him away from John so badly, while at the same time he needed them to meet. And meet, they did. He had to stop John from killing Rook, from drowning him in the bliss, remind him that this wasn’t how they did things. Everything got worse after that. He had more and more visions. Around that time, he sent him the voicemail. Hoping this would make John change his ways. Stop fighting everyone, all the damned time. But the visions kept coming, none with happy endings -

 

“-seph. Joseph? Hey?” Joseph blinked as he felt a hand on his shoulder, hearing Rook’s voice calling his name. He looked at him in a slight haze.

 

“Yes?” Rook retreated his hand once he spoke and looked down at his hands, where Joseph had been picking at the cuts from the glass. The man frowned slightly at the realization and pulled at the snare wrapped around his hand. It was soaked in his blood.

 

“You were looking sorta distressed, so…” He shrugged, leaning to grab his hand and proceeded to unwrap the snare, pulling Joseph's hand into his lap as he grabbed a bigger shard of glass from the floor and used it to dig a few of the smaller shards out of his palm. Joseph flinched slightly. “I have to get them out before you get some kind of infection. With my luck, it’d be a deadly one.” He got the bigger ones out with his fingers, and once he seemed satisfied, he let Joseph pull his hand back.

 

“Thank you.” He just nodded at the Fathers thanks, watching him as the man stood up, stretching his thin body. Rook couldn’t help but stare, eyes roaming over each rib, so defined in his thin build, scars and tattoos scattered everywhere across his skin. “I’d tell you to take a picture, but I doubt you know how to work an older camera.” His eyes darted up to Joseph’s face, finding the man staring at him with an amused gaze. He frowned.

 

“Sure I can.” He argued softly. The Father raised his brows at him and leaned down to grab something from the desk before tossing it into his lap. “Wha-”

 

“That’s an old camera. It prints the photo directly after you take it, and then you must wait for the image to show up.” Joseph explained as Rook was turning the camera around in his hands, looking up when Joseph turned to face him with a soft smile. “So?” He spread his arms slightly, in a way asking him to take the picture. Rook swallowed but raised the camera.

 

“Where do I press?” He asked, and Joseph showed him. He showed him how to get the flash up as well, since it was in the dark. Rook nervously pointed the camera towards Joseph and pressed the button. The camera startled him slightly as it made a loud sound, the flash going off very brightly, before a picture slid out of it and into Rook’s lap. He grabbed the photo and shook it slightly, watching as an image formed onto the paper. He smiled softly, placed the camera next to him on the mattress as he examined the image. “It’s not got colour,” He noted. Joseph nodded, telling him it had black and white prints in it. He gave the picture to Joseph, and the Father moved to pin it to the board, next to all his siblings.

 

The two of the stared at it for a while before Rook broke the silence with a soft laugh. Joseph looked at him, clearly confused. “Ah, sorry, I just find it funny, the way we’re interacting. Considering everything we’ve been through.”

 

“...Yeah.” Joseph agreed, humming softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'alls comments been makin me all soft xx i love reading and replying to comments so keep them coming!! Love u guys. My birthday is this upcoming monday so idk when i'll have the next chapter up but hopefully soon!


	4. The Cleansing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joseph wants to cleanse the Deputy. Joseph paints. Rook fires a gun. They talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh sorry this is so late ive just been really depressed lately so ive not been very inspired... I hope you all still enjoy the chapter

The two of them stayed together in awkward silence for a while, Rook still sitting down on the mattress as he played with the camera. He’d taken another picture, this one slightly blurry. He’d shoved it into his pocket and apptempted to hand the camera to Joseph but the man simply told him to keep it, so he awkwardly nodded and put it back down on the mattress next to him, feeling confused and not really knowing what to do now. After a while of being stared at, Rook looked up to meet the older man's stare. He was about to ask what he wanted when Joseph extended his uninjured hand towards him. “Allow me to guide you.” 

 

“What?” The Father just blinked at him, keeping his hand still, staring like he was expecting Rook to just grab it without question. He sighed and reluctantly took his hand. Joseph smiled and lifted him up from the mattress, into his own personal space, his hands finding the sides of Rook’s face like they always did. Rook flinched at the feeling of the drying blood against his skin, sticky and gross.

 

“You must learn to trust me, my child.” He spoke in a low, calming voice, pulling Rook close, pressing their foreheads together for a moment before letting him pull away. “I have granted you your time to get accustomed to living in these circumstances, now you must get accustomed to living with me.” He caressed Rook’s face softly, his right hand brushing against the beard he’d grown out during his time spent taking down the Seed siblings, along with the time in the bunker. Joseph's fingers combed through the short, thick hair, before curling around a hair and tugging. Rook let out a small wince, bringing his his hand up to rub his cheek, glaring at Joseph with a slight frown and a ‘what’d you do that for?’. The man just smirked, showing him the few hairs he’d stolen, twirling them in his fingers before letting them fall to the ground, his hand staying in the space between his and Rook’s face, smirk dropping along with his gaze. “We must get you out of these clothes, cleanse you.” He placed his hand on the shoulder of the deputy, letting it sit there for a moment as the two just stared at each other wordlessly, before sliding it over to rest against Rook’s throat, his thumb gently pressing down against his adams apple and slipping down, into the dip between his collarbones. Rook fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to pull away, which resulted in Joseph’s left hand moving to grab him by the hair to keep him still. He didn’t pull or tug, simply held the hair in a loose grip. Rook kept quiet, ignoring the slight discomfort, realizing that the smartest thing to do was to just let Joseph do whatever Joseph wanted. He shut his eyes and let out a shaky breath, feeling the fingers in his hair twitch. The hand on his throat continued its way down, traveling past his chest, before stopping right above his belly. When it stayed there for a while, Rook opened his eyes, staring down at where Joseph’s fingers were pressed against him. The Father grasped a fistful of his shirt, seeming ready to pull it off. Rook grabbed his wrist, eyes quickly meeting Joseph’s own.

 

“Don’t… Don’t tear it. We can’t afford destroying any equipment, that includes clothing.” Rook let his hand slide away from the other man's wrist, falling back down against his side. He felt the wall against his back, Joseph’s hand in his hair letting go, sliding down the side of Rook’s face and down to his neck.

 

“Come on,” He hummed after a moment, grabbing the hem of Rook’s shirt with both hands and lifted it up, keeping their eyes locked together as he did so. He slowly pulled it over Rook’s head, taking it off him in a gentle manner, leaning down to place it somewhere nearby. Rook wasn’t sure where, but he really didn’t care. “I will cleanse you.” 

 

“You say that, but you’re the one covered in blood.” To make a point, Rook brought a hand up to his cheek, blood drying fast where Josephs hand had been. The Father just shrugged as if he wasn't to blame. “You need a shower too.” At least that's what he hoped Joseph had meant. He nearly sighed in relief when the older man nodded. Good, he hadn't meant anything weird by –

 

“We shall go together.”

 

Wait,  _ what? _

 

“Uhh” Rook blinked a few times, not sure if he heard that right. When Joseph didn’t add anything, Rook stepped away with a sneer, shaking his head. That was definitely not a thing that they were gonna do. No way. “Yeah  _ no _ , I’m not showering with you.”

 

Joseph frowned at that, brows furrowing as he reached for Rook’s arm. “I must cleanse you, Rook.” His fingers brushed against Rook's skin briefly before the man was stepping away further.

 

“You might be comfortable being n- _ naked _ around others but I’m not!” He snapped, looking around for his shirt, bringing his arms up to cover his torso. Joseph sighed, watching him closely. After a moment he handed him the shirt. Why did he have it? Didn't he put it down? Rook swallowed down his questions and took the shirt. He didn't pull it on, simply held it against his chest.

 

“We can leave the lights off.” Joseph suggested, as if that was the issue here. Rook cringed at the statement and brought his hand up to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

 

“That is  _ so _ not what I mean!” He ran his hand through his hair and leaned his head back with a groan. “God, you just had to make it sound sexual, didn’t you? I hate you so much, oh my god…” Joseph frowned and stayed quiet for a while. Rook let his arm drop back to his side and looked at Joseph with furrowed brows. The man stared him down intensely.

 

Suddenly he smiled, bittersweet, fingers suddenly around Rook’s wrist before he could even react. He was pulled closer to the man. “You shall learn to listen to my words eventually.” His voice was calm and eerie, eyes not blinking or moving as he stared at the deputy. “I shall allow you to take off the rest of your clothes yourself, but if you don’t do as I tell you to, I will force them off of you. You have a choice.”

 

“That’s not a choice, that’s an  _ illusion _ of a choice,” Rook tugged at his arm, trying to get out of Joseph's grip, but was unsuccessful, Joseph's knuckles turning white as he squeezed harder. Rook winced slightly, other hand shooting over to grab his wrist, right above where Josephs hand was. “I- I don't actually get to choose, I just decide whether it’s more or less pleasant for me.” He sputtered, still pulling, weakly.

 

“Then you shall decide,” The man told him, guiding him to turn as he started walking out of the room.

 

“...Fuck off Joseph.” Despite his words, he let his shoulders drop and allowed Joseph to pull him along. He held his shirt against his chest, feeling the fingers around his wrist loosen slightly as they walked, before they let go entirely, Joseph trusting him to follow. He reluctantly did, shoulders slumping as he held his shirt by the sleeve, letting it drag on the floor. 

 

The shower was...awkward, to say the least. Joseph nearly forced him out of his pants and seemed unnervingly confident in his own nudity, staring at Rook in the same way he always did, not nervous, not uncomfortable. Rook cringed under his gaze, finding himself letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Joseph stepped into the shower. Rook was doing his best to avoid looking at him. This proved difficult as the man insisted he let him wash him, or  _ cleanse _ him, as Joseph liked to call it. Rook would've resisted more but the bliss-heavy water was starting to mess with his mind, coaxing him into a gentle high, nothing like what the bliss with Faith was. He relished in the feeling of Joseph's fingers massaging his scalp, his temples, his shoulders, a hand sliding over to rub over his chest… He sighed and leaned into the touches, slumping back against Joseph's body, bliss filling him up. He heard Joseph say something, but couldn't comprehend his words. He muttered a confused “What?” at the man, head tilting slightly as he tried to look at him over his shoulder, though his eyes were closed. He felt hair against his forehead and he blinked, opening his eyes, noticing Josephs hair had been freed and was covering part of his face. He reached an arm back to run his fingers through the wet hair of The Father, a distraction from all else. Joseph hummed a familiar tune, hands guiding Rook to stand up by himself as Joseph got scissors from the sink. Rook watched as he trimmed his own beard, swaying on his feet as he waited for him to finish. Once he did, he pulled the deputy close, informing him of what he was doing. Rook was barely even aware of what was happening at this point, for some reason the amount of bliss seemed tripled in the shower compared to any other running water they had. He faintly remembered Sharky mentioning that his shower was super blissed up, more so than his kitchen or bathroom sink. Maybe it had something to do with the filter… Rook wasn't a plumber, he didn't know. 

 

Then he remembered, Sharky's dead. They all are.

 

His eyes shot open, meeting Josephs blue ones, suddenly much more aware than he was a moment ago. He stepped back, hissing at the sharp pain right underneath his jaw. He looked down at Joseph's hand, at the knife in his hand. 

 

Joseph read his expression and sighed. “I see you have not been paying attention,” He said, a hand sliding from Rook's neck to his shoulder, a hand Rook hadn't even realized was there to begin with. He furrowed his brows, confused. “I'm not harming you, not on purpose, I told you to stay still. I trimmed your beard, the next step was to shave your neck and underneath your jaw.” Like Jacob and Pratt, but not at all like Jacob and Pratt. Rook shifted uncomfortably. “Will you allow me to finish the job I started?” After a long moment of hesitation and standing in silence, Rook muttered a “yeah, sure” in defeat. He knew in the long run he would prefer his beard taken care of properly, and as someone who had never used anything besides a proper razor, he didn't trust himself with a knife.

 

That's when he also realized the shower wasn't running anymore. The bliss was wearing off.

 

He avoided eye contact with Joseph the entire time.

  
  


**†††**

  
  


Long, gentle strokes, black on white, ink seeping onto the paper, bleeding over the edges in points of hesitation. Flowers from a field, surrounded by golden hair and death. Fire and tragedy. Petals falling, falling apart. A soft face, empty gaze, lips parted as she struggled to breathe. Blood from a split lip, spread to her cheek from where she tried to swipe it away, pretended to be fine. A bruise below her eye, tears flowing over it, light playing across the wet surface of her skin. 

 

A gunshot.

 

An arm moves, ink bottle falling over, spilling, bleeding.

 

Panicked, frenzy movements, trying to prevent the destruction.

 

It was too late.

 

With a frustrated sigh, Joseph picked up the paper and moved it aside to dry, hoping there might still be a possibility he might be able to fix it. In the meanwhile, he had to check out the gunshot, make sure the Deputy had not injured himself by accident. Ever since yesterday, since the shower, the Deputy had been staying away from Joseph, avoiding him. He wondered if it were due to the bliss in the shower, or perhaps the Deputy was having sinful thoughts. Either way, Joseph was willing to give him his space, but he wasn’t going to let him die. He slowly pushed himself up from his seat and made his way to the way he heard the sound coming from, the sound still lightly echoing and jumping off the walls. He walked through the bunker, finally reaching the end, finding Rook standing near the doors, facing away from Joseph, a bullet hole in the wall. 

 

“Deputy,” Joseph called softly, voice calm and collected, even has he eyed the gun in the man's hand. After a moment of silence, he let his eyes scan the man's body, checking for blood or bruises, but no obvious injuries were to be seen. He stepped closer. “Rook,” he called, firmer this time. The man still didn’t react, his breathing uneven and erratic, fingers clutching the gun in his hand. Joseph frowned, his brows furrowing as he stepped even closer, gently placing a hand onto Rook’s shoulder, the other sliding down the man's arm and grasping the wrist of the hand the gun was in. His fingers twitched slightly as he eyed the back of the other’s head. “ _ Nathan _ .” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, as he called the deputy’s real name, finally gaining a reaction out of the man as he turned his head just slightly to glance at Joseph.

 

“What do you want?” Nathan grumbled, his breathing evening out but not slowing down, his shoulders slumping, seemingly less tense. He didn't even wait for Joseph to answer before he pulled away from his touch and pushing past him. Joseph followed, not speaking a word. He watched as Nathan returned the gun to where he’d taken it from and then proceeded to make his way to the living room and sat down on the couch there, his legs crossed as he pointedly did not look at Joseph. They waited in silence for a while. “I know you’ve been feeding the fish.” Nathan noted as he finally looked over at the Father, breaking the silence, and Joseph nodded, as that was true. Nathan had believed that they were all dead, never really caring to go check on them. After the bombs had hit, the fish had spent most of their time hiding. Scared. But as Joseph fed them, they did get more active eventually, and now they could be seen swimming around behind the glass. Joseph watched them with a soft smile. “Why?”

 

Joseph met Nathan's eyes, blinking as he wondered, “You rather I let them die of starvation?” He knew the answer would be negative. Nathan frowned and rolled his eyes, muttering about how that wasn’t what he meant. Humming softly, Joseph sat down on the couch next to him and placed his hands down onto his own lap, fingers playing with the snare wrapped around his wrist and hand. He momentarily wondered if Nathan even cared to hear his reasoning. “They have done no wrong. They know not of sin, not of politics, war.” Joseph explained, thinking back to when he had started feeding them in the hopes that they would by some miracle still be alive, remembering the joy and relief he felt when they started coming out whenever there was food. Now they swam around the tank, content in their life, unaware of the tragedies of the outside world. “Innocent in every way. More pure than humans.” He paused. Worried his lip between his teeth, wrapping the snare around his fingers in hesitation. “I felt, ah, it wouldn't be right of me to let them die.”

 

At that, the Deputy let out a barking, dry laugh, rolling his eyes. “You put fish life above human life?” Joseph turned his head, looking down at the younger man with a mix of offended and confused. “You literally killed Dutch, for no reason, but you want to keep his fish alive.” Nathan said it as if it was somehow odd or unexpected, even though Joseph had explained his reasoning to him. He nodded, slowly.

 

“Yes, I did kill him, but it was not my intention at first.” He spoke slower, articulating his points clearly. “Dutch wasn’t cooperating with me. He let me in only so I could carry you with me but after that, he was ready to kill me. I killed him before he killed me.” He shrugged, looking away from Nathan. He knew the man was a former Deputy, and they met because Joseph was accused of kidnapping and murder, so obviously he didn't condone his actions, even if they were justified. “It was simply self defense.”

 

Nathan stayed silent, staring at Joseph with an unreadable expression. He sighed when the man didn’t meet his gaze, and looked away as well. “Why did you save me?” He asked, tone cold, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked for an explanation. “I killed your family, so you actually had an excuse for it too.” 

 

Joseph hesitated. He wanted to yell at him for bringing up his family, a sneer twisting onto his face as he bared his teeth, before forcing himself to calm down when he realized Nathan had leaned away, possibly due to fear. He sighed and looked away. “You are special, Nathan.”

 

“Just- just call me Rook,” The Deputy muttered, crossing his arms. “And answer the question, that’s not an answer.”

 

“I’ve seen you in my dreams.” Joseph explained. Nathan wanted the truth, so Joseph figured he might as well indulge him. Tell him the truth, even though he wouldn't listen, wouldn't care. “You are meant to be here. Even if I tried to kill you, you’d survive. You are not meant to die yet.” He looked over at the other man, staring him down for a moment, squinting at him momentarily. “God will not allow it.” At that, Nathan let out a laugh. Joseph frowned at him. ‘I am not joking.”

 

“Right, right. Of course not.” Nathan chuckled, shaking his head. But when he looked at Joseph and saw his expression, he stopped laughing. He knew the man wasn't sane, but he didn't think… He shifted uncomfortably. “If you're gonna tell me next that we're soulmates or some shit, I'm literally leaving this bunker.”

 

“No, we were not meant for eachother, we are not perfect together, as most people are not.” 

 

Nathan sighed in relief. “I want to say thank God but I think you'd take that too personally so I'll just not do that,” the man laughed softly as Joseph watched him curiously.

 

“It is quite alright for you to say that. I understand.” Though, Joseph wondered if that had been the case, if God had intended the two of them to be together, would Joseph have been able to go through with it? Would he have been able to love someone like the Deputy in such a manner? But, that wasn't how it was. Nathan was meant for someone different. He wasn’t sure if he should tell the full truth or leave it at that. He might freak out if he found out, but then again, he might not. It didn't really matter at this point anyway, since… Since  _ he _ was dead. Joseph looked down at his hands, considered it for a moment. He should tell him. He let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Deputy,” Nathan looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, “You were made for John.” It seemed to take a moment for the words to sink in. Nathan nodded slowly. He seemed to be processing what Joseph had told him.

 

“Okay that's-” He laughed nervously, looking away from Joseph for a moment before looking back, “That’s somehow worse.” 

 

“I should not have told you.”

 

“It's fine. It… Actually explains a few things.” Before Joseph got to ask any further questions, Nathan had gotten up and walked past him, into the bathroom. He heard the door lock. He wasn’t going to find out tonight. Some other time, then.

 

He returned to his paintings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys feel about me referring to the dep by his name when its from Josephs POV? Idk i just felt like doing it. Oh and just so you all know you can add me on discord: csribbles#1237

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr, instagram, twitter and deviantart accounts all have the same user as the one i use here, csribbles, so free feel to come say hi to me there! I'm most active on instagram :)


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